Changing Lives
by Charmaps
Summary: Harry leaves the wizarding world after the final show down with Voldemort, but is pulled back in by his own murder. But does he want to come back. This is my first complete short story I hope you enjoy it.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.  
  
HOW IT ALL ENDED.  
  
Dumbledore,  
  
It's finished. He's dead; his followers have disbanded and are trying to save themselves. They are for others to sort out, not me. I am not coming back.  
  
I am grateful for all you have done for me, but now I want to be alone. I am not part of the magic world anymore. Please don't try to find me I don't want to be found.  
  
Goodbye. Harry.  
  
The old man lowered the letter and looked deeply into the fireplace willing a face to appear there and tell him it was all a mistake, a bad decision and he had changed his mind. Dumbledore wondered if the face would have changed any. The boy was seventeen going on seventy. It must show somewhere other then in his jaded view of his life. He had killed Voldemort, fulfilled his destiny. At what cost?  
  
"You received a letter as well I see," said a kind voice behind him, startling him out of his revere. "Minerva, please sit down." "The Weasleys received a goodbye letter as did Miss Granger" She paused for a moment then added quietly, "Do you think he means it?" "I am afraid so." "Do you think he will ever come back?" "In time maybe, we will have to wait and see ".  
  
They both turned to the fire and sat in its warmth. He was alive, well or unwell they knew he was alive. They would look for him, but if he did not want to be found what could they do. He knew how not to be found. Voldermort had discovered that much to his fury. Now they would discover it much to their sorrow.  
  
THE NEW BEGINNINGS  
  
"Thanks again for the lift" said the dark haired man as he carefully negotiated his way down from the cab of the lorry. "Don't mention it."  
  
The driver had been the kind of friendly chap that made him, Harry, as the hitchhiker not feel so bad. The driver enjoyed the company to keep him awake and talked a lot. Harry soon found out all the news he had been missing in the last couple of months along with the inevitable life story of the driver. For a change he had not needed to try to give his made up story, he had just settled back and listened.  
  
At first he had decided that he did not need news, but now he had resolved that knowing what was going on in the world did not necessarily involve him in it. It had been 4 years since he had last been in England. He had chased Voldemort to the Qebhis Mountains as their battle had drawn to a close and had stayed in the mountains till recently. He knew they had looked for him, but as no one knew where the battle had ended, no one knew really where to look for him. He missed the mountains and the people from the muggle villages that he had come to know during his time there. It was a quiet way of life, peaceful with no unwanted attention.  
  
Coming back to England was a risk, but he was restless. He had no intention of rejoining the magic world, he just felt that he had hid long enough for the searching to stop and now it was time to start living a new life. Choosing where in England to go was the hard part. The big cities would mean he was always in danger of bumping into someone that would recognise him. Small villages were no better, that was where witches and wizards lived usually. He had chosen a small seaside town relatively unknown and non-descript in the end.  
  
As he looked at the town sprawled out below him now he wondered about the wisdom of his choice. It was a dark dull day, with the wind howling and the rain lashing onto the street. Not unlike it had been on the mountain before the end. He started walking down the hill towards the town; maybe it would not be so bad. He had planned ahead and with money that he had from his parents, he had brought premises. He was a businessman now. It felt good. If he could stay positive and avoid his depressions, he would be all right.  
  
Also with the money from his parents, (Thank Merlin they never cut that off, and anything he did was untraceable. The Goblins ensured that for everyone), he had had the premises decorated. His business was ready to open. He just had to employ staff. The interviews were already arranged for tomorrow.  
  
A smile emerged onto his lips as he surveyed his surroundings. Everything was how he had said it should be. The walls were white, as was the ceiling. The floor was padded with thin blue mattresses that reminded him of PE lessons back at his muggle junior school all those years ago. And the front wall was mirrored all the way up and across. His students would be able to see themselves training. A Gym, which taught various self-defence arts and boxing, had felt like just the right thing. No witch or wizard would end up on the student list, physical fighting was not how he or she would defended himself or herself.  
  
Defence was something he felt strongly about, having had to defend himself for all those years at Hogwarts. The attacks had come from many quarters and were in many forms. He knew how to defend himself, and had discovered that defence arts of all kinds were something he was very good at. He had the balance and the judgement as well as the timing like it was a natural instinct. He would do well here and be happy. Harry walked on through the downstairs area, changing rooms in good order, boxing room with punch bags and ring. Upstairs he knew there would be a two bedroom flat also freshly decorated. The building had been in a bad state of disrepair and the previous owner had given up on ever selling the place when he came along and made a modest yet reasonable offer. It was all finished within the fortnight with the help of a good solicitor.  
  
Yes, he thought, this will do very nicely.  
  
WHAT THE PAPERS SAID  
  
"Balance on you back leg more, that's it. Perfect you've got it." Harry smiled broadly at his youngest pupil, who was rapidly getting ahead of others in her class. "It's easy really, you've just got to know how to do it" Gillian replied, with all the wisdom and I know it all of a five year old child. Harry and Gillian's mum, who was watching from the parents bench both laughed at this remark. "We'll call it a day there shall we?" "Okay" As Gillian dashed off to the changing room, Harry slowly worked his way around other pupils who were still having lessons and approached Mary. "Gillian really is doing well," He said as he reached her. "She enjoys the lessons and then goes home and uses what she has learnt on her older brothers, they are actually getting to the point where they won't tease her because they are scared of her retaliation" "They could come for lessons here too if they wanted" Harry replied laughing. "Oh no, footballs all there interested in and that's fine by me. I could not stand it if they could play fight properly. The fighting now is bad enough, and they can't really do much damage to each other, which is good. Boys will be Boys". Harry laughed again of all the parents that came in over the last two years with their children Gillian's parents were amongst his favourites. Gillian reappeared from the changing room and ran up to her mum, smiling cheekily. "Stuart said I smelt this morning, I'm going to practise on him tonight" she loudly announced. Harry laughed as Mary led Gillian out of the building shaking her head from side to side. "Give me strength" he heard her say as the door closed behind them.  
  
Harry turned and made his way to the desk. Jackie the receptionist saw him approaching and quickly adjusted her hair and put on her most radiant smile. "Hello Mr Evans". She said in what was meant to be a low seductive drawl. If she weren't so good with the customers and at organising things he would not have her work there. Her crush had emerged a few days after she had started at the gym and had not worn off in the two years she had been there. She was attractive but not what he considered attractive. Women were one problem he had resolved to never tackle. If the right one came along so be it. He wasn't going looking for her. "I'm going to call it an evening, I'll be back down to close up at ten. Call me if there's any problems". "Okay Mr Evans. Goodnight". Harry had used his mother's maiden name instead of Potter. He had not changed his first name. He slowly made his way upstairs, stopping and talking to a few parents on the way. Mainly the single mothers, who only stayed here or brought there children even because of him, or so his teachers would say when they teased him.  
  
Once upstairs he stopped in the landing and glanced in the mirror. Yes he probably was not that bad looking. He had grown to a healthy 6'4", his shoulders were broad and all his fitness training made him very muscular and well proportioned. His hair was peppered grey/black that made him look older then his 23 years by at least 10 years. The dark wrap around shades, which fully covered his eyes from all angles were necessity. His eyes were so damaged on that final day that any bright light hurt, badly. It was the only use of magic he still had. When he needed to see something accurately or read he had to use a third sight charm. To anyone who questioned his dark glasses, especially on dull wet days he would reply, either, 'The sun may shine', or, 'He was overly light sensitive' in a way that left no room for more questions. He wandered into his kitchen and started to prepare his dinner. It was not until he was about to put water on the stove to boil that he saw what was on the table. He stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the pan and the water on the floor.  
  
He was staring at a picture of himself. A picture of a mangled dead him. Harry put his hand to his own chest to confirm that it didn't have a huge hole blown in it and sat down slowly on the chair next to the table and picked up the copy of the wizarding paper, The Daily Prophet, mumbled the third sight charm and began reading.  
  
The ministry has confirmed that the body found yesterday evening in a quiet London suburb is that of Harry James Potter who went missing six years ago this month. It is believed he had been dead for some time though the ministry wishes to carry out further investigations before releasing any more information. Friends of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, are said to be congregating at the burrow. The home of the Weasley family, the closest to a family that Harry Potter had. They are deciding the arrangements for the funeral and will announce them in due course. No one was available for further comment. The death comes at a time when the remaining followers of He who cannot be named are remassing and the loss, which is such a blow to the good people of the magical community is a cause of great cheer to those with ill intentions. The threat that Harry Potter would come back if dark forces arose again is now gone. With the kidnapping of the Moonchild's and the recent raid on the ministry building itself, is it only a matter of time before a new war breaks out. A war with no visible hero to save us. Can the ministry stop the war? Page 2 and 3. A worthwhile life, the story of The Boy Who Lived page 4,5,6,7,8, and 9. A picture tribute, the rest of the pages.  
  
What should he do his mind raced? He quickly read the rest of the paper. The Moonchild's were children born when the moon and planets lay in perfect line to each other and are thought to have special powers. There were three of them that had been born all around the same hour. All three had been kidnapped; by dark forces it was believed. The raid on the ministry had led to the identity of the Moonchild's as well as the loss of some other documents that were not described. There was then a glorified telling of his 'tragic' short life, and a guess about his end. The ministry believe he had been living on the streets of London as a beggar and been spotted by a dark wizard, ambushed and murdered. The pictures were the upsetting part. School photos, photo's that must have been supplied by Mrs Weasley of him smiling and laughing during one of his stays at the Burrow. Pictures of his friends, him with his friends. All the photo's smiled and laughed and moved.  
  
A lump crept into his throat he did miss it. He missed them as well. He could go and see them briefly, he thought. He could show them that he was well. Then leave again. But could he leave again. If he tried they would want to stop him. It would be messy. And he would get what he wanted least of all. Attention. He had made sacrifices for the peace he had. He didn't want questions, he didn't want to give the answers. If he went back he could not leave again. He couldn't go back. Surely people would realise the body was not his.  
  
But how was there a body that was the spitting image of him.  
  
Harry could not sleep that night. Nightmares threatened to return, nightmares that contained all to real pain. He rose early and dressed. Still troubled by how a dead body existed and was the spitting image of him as he was the day he left the school for the last time and went to the mountains. Before he lost a great deal of his sight and his hair turned grey. There were many more lines on his face now as well. If I do go back, he thought bitterly, as he looked in the mirror, they probably would not believe it was me anyway.  
  
The muggle papers also covered the death. They reported the cruel beating to death of a young homeless man in a nice suburb.  
  
Young. Harry was twenty-three and felt one hundred and twenty three.  
  
LONDON BOUND  
  
Harry tried hard to forget what he had read over the next few days, but it was hard. The papers arrived each day as he had ordered. The Daily Prophet covered his death almost exclusively, with all other news being a by-line. His funeral was tomorrow and to be held at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was to conduct the ceremony before the body was to be buried in a quiet secret spot, so as to be left to rest in peace.  
  
In the two years he had been back in England he had had a couple of close calls with witches and wizards. Nearly being seen or recognised on the street. But he had managed to get through all encounters with his secret intact. He had taken The Daily Prophet since his return to England and not once did he see a claim that was sensible about a sighting of him. He now always wore a baseball cap when out and about. Never looked directly at people that were staring hard at him, lest they think they recognise him. The shades helped a lot, people are never sure if they can't look you direct in the eye. His fringe covered his scar, and he had let his unruly hair grow very long and tied it back in a ponytail. An old but good-looking man with long grey hair and stylish shades, were not how they expected to see him.  
  
For the fourth night after the night of the headline, Harry lay awake again, unsure of what to do. The wizarding world were scarred. His 'death' had been a catalyst for the left over fear from the last war to emerge. He resolved he had to do something but that something had to be on the quiet. He liked this life; he was coming back to it.  
  
Harry rose, packed some things, and left some written instructions for his staff. Then left. He had brought a motorcycle the previous summer. It was not as good as flying but it was fast and he enjoyed riding it. The ride to London however, was not going to be a ride that would be pleasant he reflected as he started the engine and pulled away.  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder, he would be back.  
  
CHANGING PLANS  
  
On the ride to London Harry had formulated a rough plan and so far it had all gone to plan. The body was in the ministry. It was being held there till the morning when it would be moved to Hogwarts.  
  
What he had not planned for was the crowd outside of the ministry. As far as he could tell, they were holding some kind of vigil. They all looked like witches or wizards, some he recognised but most he didn't. The only explanation he could think of as he sat on his bike at the far end of the road watching them was that they were holding the vigil for him.  
  
There must have been at the least a few hundred there. Muggles that were walking by eyed them up wondering why all these people were stood holding candles outside of a building with no apparent special status. To them it was just a building in London and this was strange behaviour.  
  
He had to rethink his plan. He was not going to be able to sneak in and take a look at the body. That plan was out the window. So what now?  
  
Then he saw them, Ron and Hermione. They were leaving the ministry. They made there way round the edge of the crowd and headed down the pavement. Near the end they got into a car. Hermione's by the looks of it as she got in the drivers side like she owned it. Ron got in the passenger side and embraced a now sobbing Hermione before she started the ignition and drove away. His stomach twisted and a big wave of guilt flooded over him. He had hurt people. They had hurt like he hurt when he left. Slowly he backed up his bike and rode away. What should he do? Following Hermione and Ron seemed like a reasonable thing to do. He turned the bike around and sped off in the direction that he had seen them go.  
  
It did not take him long to find the car and soon he was following at a discreet distance. After a while he realised that they were heading in the direction of the Burrow. With another wave of guilt Harry realised this was a bad idea and turned off the motorway at a loss for where to go next. Getting a look at the body had been a bad idea. He could see that now. Finding the kidnapped children was the key to what was going on and who was doing it. He'd have to come up with a new plan.  
  
The Malfoy's. A stupid plan but an obvious one. They had somehow survived the whole post war mess again. Harry knew where there mansion was and felt sure if he could get in there he would find a answer to this whole mess and be able to go back to his life.  
  
Before he could come to his senses or change his mind he put his foot down.  
  
MALFOY MANSION  
  
There was something darkly beautiful about the Malfoy's home. It was grand with style as well and it dripped of their wealth and power. The big wall that surrounded it was plain in stark contrast to the property its self. If Harry did not know who owned it he would be very willing to enter the property, but knowing who did own it he erred on the side of caution. Harry settled himself and his bike into the bushes and sat back waiting for the cover of darkness.  
  
When darkness finally fell Harry rose from his hiding spot. He firstly put his noninfraction charm on himself. It was a charm he had invented for himself. A powerful charm that could enable him to slip through any charm that was placed around an object or place as long as in his heart he knew he was doing right. That was the safety he had put into this charm so that it could not be used for dark purposes. All he had to worry about was the physical aspect of the mansion. The wall was scaled in no time and he set about slowly making his way to the side of the house. That house was also less trouble then he supposed it would be. The windows were not locked and in no time he had slipped through a window and was in a dark room next to what must be a living room or study of sorts as he could hear a handful of different voices coming from the adjoining room.  
  
"They all believe it's him. Not even his close friends are questioning what they see" "But what if the real Potter show's up?" The sound of men arguing with each other was clear. Harry did not recognise the first two voices but the next one sent a chill down his spine, Peter Pettigrew. "If the real Potter is going to show up he would of done that by now, He probably only lived long enough after the battle to send those notes and then curl up and die somewhere." "You're the only one sure that he's dead." This voice was Luscious Malfoy. "I know what our revered lord had waiting for him. He's dead or decrepit somewhere." Retorted Peter. "But wha." The first voice again, but he was cut off by Malfoy. "Stop questioning me. Our plans stand. Whilst all of the good and great of the wizarding world are at the funeral tomorrow" his voice dripped with sarcasm, "we are going to go into the school's library, take the book of ancient chants and return here to start the ceremony." "Tomorrow my destiny will be fulfilled." "Our great Lord may be gone but it is now time I rose to take his place, and I intend to" "Here, Here" chimed Peter. Harry knew he was the kind of person that sucked up to the strongest person around him. But this was too much it made him feel sick to the stomach. Malfoy as the new Dark Lord. The image was unpleasant.  
  
Harry pondered what to do next. He had to find the children or the book. He knew when they would go for the book so that gave him time. Time that had to be used wisely. Against his better judgement he decided where he had to go and that it was time he started using his magic powers fully again. He took a deep breath and apparated with a pop.  
  
HOGSMEADE  
  
Apparating to the cave above Hogsmeade where Harry had once been to meet his godfather gave him Goosebumps. He looked around the cave and realised it was so similar to the one where he had hidden in the mountains for all that time. Slowly he took a deep breath and started heading down to the village before cutting around the side of the village and towards Hogwarts.  
  
The walk did not take him too long and he was able to avoid being seen easily by the few people he passed. The village seemed quiet and deserted almost. He slowed down his pace as he approached the school and took another deep breath. This whole situation was giving him a strange feeling. When he reached the gates to the school he kept walking and was soon at the main entrance hall to the school. It was deserted. As it was the middle of the summer holidays he knew there was no risk of running into students, and by the hour very little risk of meeting a teacher. He had only the ghosts to worry about.  
  
Slowly he walked through the corridors till he reached the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore office. Standing there saying all the sweets he could think of till the gargoyle moved to make way for a staircase reminded him of when he had stood there as a student doing the same thing. Too much was reminding him of the years that he had passed here. "Pear Drops" The staircase appeared Harry stepped onto it and was on his way up. Too late to change his mind.  
  
Harry could see light emanating from under the office door and knew that Dumbledore was in there. After a moment of waiting he knocked on the door. He did not feel it prudent to just enter as he was not expected.  
  
"Come in" came the familiar tones of Dumbledore. Another deep breath and then he pushed open the door and entered. Harry had never seen Dumbledore shocked or at such a loss for words as he was now. He was stood by the fireplace poking the embers but slowly stopped and sat down on the chair behind him still holding the red-hot poker in his hand.  
  
A slow shocked recognition was dawning on his face as he took in the boy he thought lost that now stood before him a man, greatly changed in appearance. Neither made a move or sound for some time till Harry slowly stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. Both at a loss for what to say they settled for Dumbledore raising from his seat and slowly approaching Harry and embracing him as a father embracing a long lost child. Tears streaming down both faces. Have I come too far thought Harry. Can I still go back to my life?  
  
It was getting light when they had both finished telling their stories. Dumbledore told Harry what his old friends were doing and where they were. And although Dumbledore asked many questions he was only told of what Harry had heard at the Malfoy's Mansion and nothing of what had happened from when Harry left the school six years ago to the present time. I am still going back to my life thought Harry. "You should get some sleep. Your funeral will be a big day Harry" Dumbledore smiled as he said these words. Basking in the joy that it was not truly Harry's funeral. "I will tell the others what you have told me, things will go on as planned. If we interrupt things then the children may be killed. Only I know you are here and alive. There is one thing you may want before I go down to start dealing with the days events." Dumbledore rose and crossed to a chest that Harry suddenly realised was his school chest. Dumbledore opened the chest and pulled out a mass of Grey / Green material. "My father's cloak of invisibility" "I feel it may come in useful today. What do you think?" Harry returned Dumbledore's smile. For the first time in a long time it was a real smile. And it felt good.  
  
THE LIBRARY  
  
Harry shifted where he was. His legs had gone to sleep and his feet ached. At first his hiding spot had seemed like a good idea. It had an all round vantage of the main entrance and restricted area where the book that was being looked for was kept. But for practicality and any length of waiting it was a bad choice. Just as he was deciding if he wanted to move to a new spot the door swung open and in walked eight people. Four he instantly recognised as Malfoy, Peter, Crabbe senior and Goyle Senior. The other four he did not recognise. Three of the men he did not recognise were each holding a child. There were planning on doing the ceremony here. This he had not planned for.  
  
He waited for them to make there way into the restricted section and start searching through books before moving from his hiding point and standing in the entrance to the restricted section blocking any retreat they may attempt to make. Crabbe and Goyle had remained by the door as guards and he turned his attention to them first. He muttered his third sight charm. (All help was good help) Then he knocked Crabbe and Goyle out with one strong spell and turned to face the rest of the men. Malfoy turned first. He looked straight through Harry who was still wearing his invisibility cloak and at the two fallen men. No one had seen where the spell had come from and all were looking around somewhat frantically.  
  
Harry decided to watch their panic for a little while before taking them out one by one. The children appeared to have been knocked out by a charm or potion as they lolled quite lifeless in the arms of their captors. He was sure they were alive though and intended to keep them that way.  
  
It was all over in moments for the four that he did not know. He hit them with freezing curses that also affected the children though he felt sure this would serve to protect them as opposed to causing them any harm. It he had just hit the men with a strong charm to knock them unconscious they may have dropped the children or worse fallen on top of them.  
  
With only Malfoy and Peter left who were aiming spells in the general direction of where Harry had been when he had struck the other four, he quietly walked round behind them and raised his wand. Then dropped the cloak. Peter saw him first, it took him a moment to recognise him, but he did and the colour drained from his face as he started backing away, very scared.  
  
Malfoy saw Peter and looked in the direction that Peter was staring and stopped. Stuck for words and at a loss for what to do due to shock he slowly composed himself before talking.  
  
"You're not who I would of expected to bump into today." To Harry that seemed like a strange thing for Malfoy to say but he couldn't think of anything really better to say so he just shrugged his shoulders still holding his wand raised in front of him.  
  
"Don't like being dead" Harry replied after a while and before any curses could be said in return he knocked them both unconscious. After the fight on the mountain he had learned not to play with the enemy. He had been more flippant and arrogant then and it had cost him. Now he just wanted it over. He checked the children they were still breathing well and seemed none the worse for this ordeal. He crossed to the window that overlooked the lake and surveyed the scene below him.  
  
BACK TO MY LIFE  
  
The Funeral appeared to be under way below, although he could only see a mass of people and no details. He could hear Dumbledore talking in his soft voice and occasional sobs that he was sure came from Mrs Weasley.  
  
As arranged he let a volley of red sparks lose from his wand out of the window with a loud bang that would attract attention. He heard silence fall for a moment before some men separated themselves from the back of the crowd and headed towards the school. He had less than a minute. He grabbed his cloak and stood against the wall waiting for them to arrive. Once sure that the children were safe and in good hands he slowly crept along the wall and headed out of the door.  
  
"What happened professor?" "Who let off the sparks?" "Search in case there are more"  
  
A jumble of voices all asking questions or giving commands. Bodies lots of them crowding around him, all wizards what if one bumped into him and they realised he was there?  
  
A break in the crowd appeared and he headed for it. As he got through and headed down the hall a body appeared in front of him. Ron. He had changed, grown he was taller than Harry, Taller than most present. Harry stepped aside and watched him walk down the corridor. Again the wave of guilt struck him. Slowly he descended the stairs and headed for the main hall and the exit from the school.  
  
Dumbledore had asked him to remain. Harry was needed he said. People would look to him for guidance and leadership. There was much he could do Dumbledore had said. Harry had refused strongly he had a life he would return to. Dumbledore had tried to ask about Harry's life but Harry had given no answer.  
  
Back at the cave outside of the village Harry removed the cloak and apparated back to his bike put on his jacket and helmet and started the ride back to the little seaside town he called home now and his life. He would not let guilt drive him back to what he least wanted. That life surrounded by unwanted fame and attention.  
  
Part way home he realised he was going the wrong way. His instinct was taking him to an old home. His face was wet under the helmet. A lot of old pain was resurfacing what was he doing, he had a life. It was lonely, it didn't make him feel like today had but it was quiet. He could totally control his life that he had built so why was he heading this way.  
  
As he drew near the old familiar building, he smiled to himself. It was still crooked and leaning. It had no right to be standing but it did. The Burrow was just as he remembered it. He stopped the bike and looked down the road to the house. If he did this there would be no turning back. He wouldn't be able to go back to his old life.  
  
As he watched the house he saw people apparating into the garden, most with red hair. The Weasleys and others that he recognised. His stomach did a somersault. This close he wanted to say hello. By the way he could hear excited voices all trying to talk over one another he knew that Dumbledore had told them the story of Harry's visit and his role in the day's events.  
  
He revved the bikes engine and rode closer to the house, all faces turned to look. A motorbike was not what they expected to see approaching the Burrow. Dumbledore who had just apparated into the garden was the first to react. He started walking towards Harry and stood patiently as Harry pulled his bike up next to him and cut the engine.  
  
"I thought you had no intention of coming back to this life?"  
  
"Maybe I just needed a holiday" Harry replied as he stepped off his bike and removed his helmet. For a moment nothing was said then everyone erupted into loud conversation.  
  
As Mrs Weasley embraced Harry in a tight fond hug. Harry decided that maybe this was his life after all.  
  
THE END 


End file.
